Having recovered the entire possession of her senses, Mariette now felt her bitter sorrows even more keenly than before; and she trembled at the thought of the harsh reception that awaited her in her desolate home, when she had so much need of consolation, or, at least, of that isolation and sad tranquility which lulls the most intense grief into calm hopelessness.
Being anxious to mitigate the cruel reproaches which her prolonged absence would inevitably draw upon her, she bethought herself of her godmother's desire to obtain the part of a chicken, and determined to satisfy this whim in the hope of being forgiven. She therefore hastened to the neighboring shops, purchased the quarter of a fowl and two white rolls with what remained of the money obtained on her gown and fichu, and turned homeward once more.
As she neared the house she was somewhat surprised to see an elegant cabriolet before the door; but she entered without giving the circumstance another thought, and stopping at the lodge asked for her key.
"Your key, Mademoiselle Mariette?" said Madame Justin, "why, a gentleman has just gone up with it."
"What gentleman?" queried the girl.
"A decorated gentleman. And finely decorated, too, I assure you. A ribbon two good inches wide—and such a loop! Upon my word, I never saw a man more beautifully decorated."
"But I don't know any decorated gentleman," exclaimed the girl in astonishment. "He must be mistaken."
"No, indeed. He inquired for a woman named Lacombe, a cripple living with her goddaughter, who is a seamstress. There is no mistake, as you see."
"Didn't you tell him that my god-mother was ill and could see no one?"
"Yes, I did. But he said he must see her on very important and urgent business; so I gave him the key and let him go up alone, having no desire to be abused by your godmother."